


In The Quiet, Stolen Hours

by Anonymous



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just another busy day at the house.





	In The Quiet, Stolen Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isisanubis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisanubis/gifts).



> For [Hawkguyhasstarbucks](https://hawkguyhasstarbucks.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> Thank you for being one of the kindest, most selflessly supportive people in this fandom. I hope you like it!

Half past six. Fili wakes up on his own nowadays, five minutes before the alarm clock. He resents the racket, ruining the peace and quiet of his morning.

His days start early - the only ones up before the first footman are the scullery maids.

Shove at Kili's ribs, continued until there is at least a groan and some movement. Kili requires an advance warning before attempting to wake.

Wash, tie back hair into a low pony tail. Trim beard – that he gets to keep one at all is a personal victory of his and a little peculiarity of the house. Full morning livery. So. Many. Buttons.

Seven. Wake Mr. Baggins, the butler, with a cuppa, though he always opens the door fully dressed, prim and proper, so not much awakening tends to occur.

Half past seven. Linen, china, plates. 

"Good morning, Mr. Dori.” 

Kili. Rubbing his eyes, one button undone. Fili fixes it for him, looking far less stern than he should. Together they lay down the breakfast table. Somewhere between third and fourth setting Kili's mind kicks into gear and he remembers the correct order of cutlery, so Fili stops correcting.

Eight would spell breakfast for the eldest son of the family, but both Master Elladan and Master Elrohir rarely grace the house with their presence, preferring instead to stay in London. Still, Fili gets on with either of them well enough and this early introduction to duties of a butler spells great things for his future career. Or so everyone tells him.

Breakfast, finally, at quarter past eight. Fili is starving. At twenty-four he figures he's still growing, so eggs and bacon are essential. Not to mention the fresh, glorious scones. The taste of home. 

That their mother is the exclusive baker for the Rivendell Manor is a convenient little perk of their jobs. Once upon a time a basket full of still hot rolls, breads, scones and cakes may or may not have found its way into Mr. Baggins’ hands, quickly determining a supplier of choice for the butler. It also means that they get to see their mother daily, picking the goods and returning the trays.

Half past eight. Iron guest's clothes, prepare baths, if Young Masters are at home, attend on them. Fili prefers it when they're quiet, running a minimal house, simply because it leaves little spaces for a kind word or a bit of laughter among the staff.

"Good morning, Lady Arwen!"

"Good morning, Kili."

She likes riding before breakfast, and they both bow as she practically dances down the stairs, pulling her gloves on.

"I noticed the peonies are in full bloom. Might I suggest the south road?" 

In any other household Kili would be dismissed for his cheek. But him and Lady Arwen are friends, or as close to friends as a lady of status and a servant can be. Closest in age out of the entire household, they grew up together, getting each other in endless bouts of trouble. But she never treats him with any sense of superiority, for which Fili is grateful. 

On her tray this morning there would have been a flower, smuggled in by Kili, and she will indeed take the south road.

Fili counts his lucky starts for the fact that his brother is far too honest to seem opportunistic.

Nine o'clock spells the breakfast table inspection, which they invariably pass, following Fili’s own inspection at eight fifty-five. Kili can take it to heart, if he’s told off, and is prone to terrible bouts of not-sulking, so it’s for the best, really. 

Morning prayers at quarter past nine. After a busy morning, Fili relishes the brief moment of relative peace, using it to centre himself. There is a long day to go yet.

Half past nine. Family breakfast. The main event of the morning. Master Elrond isn't one for excessive formality, so often the family chooses to serve themselves, but there are always things to bring from the kitchens, things to take away, hot eggs to peel and so on.

He’s parted from Kili for this, who, as the second footman, will be serving Mr. Balin, Lady Arwen’s tutor, upstairs. Instead, he gets Mr. Baggins for company, who is always entertaining to watch, as the butler struggles not to judge the family for not being waited on, as is only right and proper.

Clear table, dishes. Shoulders bumping companionably with Kili, like they always have, ever since they were children, as they carefully wash glass and plates. Generally, Kili leaves the glass to Fili. It's more expensive, if it's broken.

"Apron. Kili, put the apron on, _not_ with those wet hands, give it here!"

At ten Mr. Baggins inspects their work and collects the wares.

The next hour tends to vary. Kili is often sent to the village with errands to run, while Fili mans the door, the telephone, or sometimes accompanies the carriage on visits. They both relish the chance to get out of the house.

Servants’ tea at eleven. Day’s instructions are issued as they eat and Fili obediently picks up the silvers to polish as soon as they’re done. Kili pops in every now and again and sneaks him a pork crackling which he’s wrangled off Mr. Bombur, the cook. Some of the silvers need polishing again, covered somehow in greasy fingerprints.

Half past eleven. Linen, china, plates. Luncheon table.

“How are your kohlrabies doing, Mr. Bofur?”

“Growing like mad, thank you, Fili. I only hope Mr. Bombur will have some use for them.”

Fili grins. The gardener always has a kind word for him as he delivers fresh produce to the kitchens.

Twelve. Servants dinner. Daily dose of sport, as Fili watches Kili race Mr. Baggins to the end of his plate. Once the butler stops eating, everyone else is expected to as well.

Quarter to one there’s another table inspection. Kili is fidgeting, so Fili delivers a swift kick to his shin seconds before the butler arrives. 

“Are you quite alright, Kili?”

“Yes, Mr. Baggins. Sorry, it’s just a cramp.”

Fili allows himself his grin only once safely in the hallway. 

“One of those days I will shave off your eyebrows in your sleep!” Kili hisses right in his face. They may be footmen, but they’re still brothers.

“No, you won’t,” Fili sing-songs and picks up his tray. 

One o’clock. Full complement of serving staff is required for the luncheon, so they dance around each other with various plates and vases in a well-rehearsed ballet. 

Of course now it’s _on_ , but if Fili tickles Kili’s ear with his own hair as he’s waiting to collect the next batch of plates and Kili flicks his cufflinks undone in retaliation, making him late with the dessert, everyone else is too busy to pay them much mind. 

Clear table, dishes. They flick droplets of water at each other, but stop as soon as there’s a pointed cough right behind them. Mr. Baggins doesn’t miss much. 

Inspection, put away the crockery. 

From half past two the door duty is on rotation between the butler and both of the footmen. If they’re lucky, it’s Mr. Baggins’ turn and the two of them can sneak off together. 

Their absolute favourite place to go is the village fair, but these are only put up every now and then. 

The garage is a close second, with its fascinating motorcar and Mr. Nori, the chauffer. Compared to the plush and proper world of the mansion house, what goes on in the garage is, of course, borderline illegal, but that’s what makes it so attractive to the two young footmen. 

Mr. Nori tells them about workers’ rights movement, bare knuckle fights in the city, lets them watch as he opens up the hood of the motorcar and checks the oil and petrol levels, and occasionally even offers them a taste of the blackberry moonshine he’s brewing in the back. It’s strong enough to bring tears to the corners of their eyes, but it’s practically a rite of passage. 

Sometimes they change out of their fine livery and help Mr. Bofur in the garden, especially during harvest time, when there is fresh produce to pick in a timely manner. They are paid in the fruits of their labour, which are promptly passed on to their mother when the next bakery delivery arrives. The two of them eat well enough at Rivendell, but for the folks in the village the threat of a workhouse or hunger is never far away.

Today though, it's Kili's turn to usher any visitors in and serve them, so Fili curls up instead in the servant's hall with his books, which Master Elrond has kindly allowed him to borrow from the library.

Every Sunday Mr. Balin gives classes to any servants who wish to attend and Fili secretly hopes to one day be able to take clerk's exams. Though whether he follows through will depend on whatever course in life Kili's crazy head finally settles on. In any case, good book-keeping skills will serve him just as well in a career of a butler.

Uncle Thorin, a blacksmith by trade, often disapproves of their servitude, believing it to be demeaning and subjugating. But nobody at Rivendell Manor has ever been cruel or unkind to them, only strict. If they were, Fili would have taken Kili and left.

They don't regret their career choice. What better life might they have built for themselves outside of the cosy, clean halls of the mansion? Endless shifts in a factory and a tiny attic flat in a tenement full of people just as miserable as themselves, in a polluted city far away from their mother and the green rolling hills, which Kili loves?

They are not sure if they want to be servants _all_ their lives, but they've agreed only to move if they can be certain of better prospects elsewhere.

It's not a bad life they have.

"Oh no, not the coursework again!" Kili protests. "You were studying on Tuesday _and_ Monday and I kindly left you to it. How about you read us that exciting new book we started instead?"

"The murder mystery? Mr. Baggins won't thank us for 'putting despicable ideas into the minds of his staff'."

"Mr. Baggins is doing accounts in his office. Just read quietly."

"But you keep missing entire chunks every time -"

As if on cue, the doorbell rings and Kili jumps to his feet. Fili closes his eyes and smiles, listening intently to his brother welcoming the visitors and inviting them into the parlour in record time.

When tea arrives at four, to Kili's endless dismay, they're only three pages closer to discovering who the culprit is.

Five o’clock. Serve tea to the family and guests in the drawing room, while Kili serves Mr. Balin separately. 

Clear table, more dishes. Kili has stolen a leftover slice of fruitcake and is trying to chew as fast as possible, so as to not raise suspicion by being quiet for too long. 

Fili may or may not have helped himself to a leftover piece of a shortbread finger. Shortbread is his weakness. 

Another inspection of glass and plate. 

Change into full regalia aka the evening livery and brace for dinner. 

Kitchen staff achieves whole new levels of panic and urgency, so Fili tries to stay out of their way as much as possible, occasionally dodging a maid or two. 

Six. Linen, china, plates. Soooo much china - the dinner will have at least five courses. 

Folding napkins. Fili’s most hated duty of the entire day: finicky, dependant on whatever current fashion is and _utterly pointless_. The very first thing lords and ladies do upon arrival is shake them out.

Mercifully, Kili discreetly pinches and smoothes the tips of Fili’s sad-looking roses and stars, reducing Mr. Baggins’ corrections to a mere three arrangements. Kili is much better at this nonsensical origami and Fili sends him a discrete grateful smile. 

By seven most of the female staff has disappeared to assist the ladies with their evening gowns and if Young Masters were home, the footmen would also be away, serving as valets.

As it is, Fili is trying to take in and memorise the chaos that needs to become the correct order of courses, plates, saucers, wines and treats. Next to him Kili is doing the same, only with much more of a scowl. 

“Kili. Kili, if you walk in there with that expression, they’ll think the soup is poisoned.”

“Artichokes, asparagus – what?!”

“Eyebrows.”

“Right. Artichokes –“

“Remember the garnish.”

“Of course I remember the garnish! Asparagus –“

Quarter to eight. Table inspection. 

Dinner gong at eight. Delivered by Kili, as usual, with slightly more flourish than strictly necessary. Kili _loves_ ringing the gong. 

Hell is unleashed. Starters, soups, entrée, fish, meats, vegetables, “- Mr. Bombur said the salad is to go with the game, Fee!”, game, entremets, port, must remember port, dessert. 

Clear table, serve cigars and wait on the family as they take their spirits and coffees. 

There are guests today, but mercifully they’re close acquaintances of Master Elrond, so the footmen are dismissed at nine, leaving only Mr. Baggins in attendance. 

Dishes, but they only get through so much, before servants’ supper is served at half past. They eat mostly in silence, overwhelmed by the flurry of activity.

Finish off dishes. Another inspection of glass and plate. 

Fili stays behind a bit longer, helping Mr. Baggins put everything away. 

When he finally makes it back to their shared room downstairs, the curtains are drawn, the lights are out except for a single candle, and Kili, rather enterprisingly, isn’t wearing a single stitch of clothing. 

Fili locks the door, ironically, for propriety reasons. They sleep in either bed in turns, so by the time the weekly laundry is due, both sets of sheets have been used.

“So,” his brother murmurs, his eyes shining with smug delight even in the low light.

“So,” Fili agrees, leaving Kili to get started on the many buttons of his livery and occupying himself instead with finding Kili’s lips.


End file.
